


Sweet Thing

by zakhad



Series: Diamond Dogs Album [3]
Category: Star Trek: Mirror Universe, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 00:24:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14508438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: See summary in part 1 of the series.





	Sweet Thing

**Author's Note:**

> It's safe in the city to love in a doorway  
> To wrangle some screams from the dawn  
> And isn't it me, putting pain in a stranger?  
> Like a portrait in flesh, who trails on a leash  
> Will you see that I'm scared and I'm lonely?  
> So I'll break up my room, and yawn and I  
> Run to the centre of things  
> Where the knowing one says:  
> "Boys, Boys, it's a sweet thing"

There were so many possibilities.

She knew, the minute she stepped out of the back of the truck, into the dusty yard -- it wasn't going to be just another diplomatic dead end. This was going to be  _interesting_.

Her mother fussed and demanded, and flounced. That was her way to avoid scrutiny. Most of the time the humans didn't take her very seriously, and she was fine with that. Skimming information without expending much energy was her way. Mother's constant fussing and smiling and pandering and pretense of royalty had gotten them all the way here from Betazed, she definitely needed Mother for the floor show.

Deanna preferred to dive in, and that took more distraction that idle fluttering of the hands. Her specialty was acquiring the real details that skimming missed. 

She had dug into the mind of the guard in the lobby with nary a qualm -- and then the terrorists adopted the man. 

She had taken a dip into the terrorist leader's mind, and caught the rest of the story. The Resistance, who called themselves the Maquis -- they were mobilizing after years of plans, intelligence gathering, and cultivating agents in high places. The raids they had carried out mostly succeeded due to momentary lapses, "mistakes" committed here and there -- a sequence of "mishaps" and misplacements that at the end allowed small groups of people dressed in tatty clothing to circumvent security.

It was about to be fun, fun, fun.

All she had to do was watch the Terran Empire burn.

There were plots within plots around her, being implemented. A comment here, a tidbit of information there, and she could set another one in motion.

She avoided the one she'd scanned in the lobby, Picard. He wasn't what he appeared to be. She doubted Chakotay understood what he'd let into the fold. He had a favorable impression of her so far -- exactly what she wanted him to have.

She limited the time spent with Tuvok -- Vulcans were closed off, impossible to know what they were thinking, and this one was observant and wary. She limited also time spent out in the common areas in larger groups, as it was more difficult to read individuals in a crowd. Instead, she cultivated her image of a pleasant, friendly but reserved and meek woman. She spent her time with the Bajoran they had befriended on the way to Earth. It protected both of them, an agreement they had come to early on. Kira Nerys had a story similar to theirs; Deanna and her mother had been fleeing a world under attack by the Empire, who did not trust telepaths and had been murdering them wherever they could. Bajorans, expert farmers and artists all, were being oppressed on another front -- the Cardassian Union had fought valiantly on their behalf, but the Bajoran-Cardassian union was in jeopardy via a wormhole that had been dropping ships from somewhere in the Gamma Quadrant. The Terran Empire was too busy conquering easier worlds to care about refugees -- this particular Bajoran had goals as well. If she continued to be loyal to them, Deanna thought there might just be a place for her in a position of power. Which Deanna would be able to grant her once their goal had been achieved.

At some point, Deanna intended to get lenses for their eyes, and change their hair -- they'd been wearing the huge heavy wigs religiously so they would be able to go without later on. They would be able to once again change their names.

There were many roads to power.

The slow, deliberate way seemed to her to be the most sustainable. Particularly if you could manage to maintain the illusion of good intentions.

She chose her target carefully. Traded a ration for a relatively-clean, short black dress, took care to brush and put up her hair. In the evening, after dinner, the terrorists would gather and play music on old string instruments and present themselves in the courtyard of their compound as peasants making the best of it -- having a little fun together. She went out for the first time and danced, careful not to be too proficient. She smiled, and went round and round, not choosing a partner, feigning shyness when approached.

Finally, she made eye contact with him. Kept making contact -- easy, so easy, as he was watching her. She smiled finally, and saw the echoing smile, and sensed it at last, interest. Hooked.

Chakotay would be so straightforward -- the ones with good intentions always were so very simple to keep at arm's length for a while. At some point, before he wanted to do something silly, she would move on, find another one to use as a cover for a while. Sex blinded them, allowed her to do what most Betazoid full bloods were unable to -- plant suggestions that humans would take on as their very own thoughts leading to decisions that favored her plan. Convincing that admiral she and her mother were his best friends had been the easiest yet. Ross had been driven by his insatiable, perverted appetites. She'd been so happy when the Vulcan had vaporized him. Ugly, foul man.

Perhaps eventually she might even approach Picard. After he put into motion his own plan. That one, he would be worth watching. A good solid stepping stone to greater things.


End file.
